Anna Akhmatova

(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

Anna Akhmatova Poems

1. To The Londoners 10/23/2015
2. I am a Bard... 11/26/2015
3. When I Write Poems 11/26/2015
4. "Thank You, God..." 8/26/2015
5. We Don't Know How To Say Goodbye 7/3/2015
6. One Goes In Straightforward Ways 4/8/2010
7. To The Muse 10/5/2011
8. There Are The Words That Couldn’t Be Twice Said 4/8/2010
9. Let Somebody Else Rest By Southern Sea 4/8/2010
10. The Pillow Hot 4/8/2010
11. To Fall Ill As One Should, Deliriously 4/8/2010
12. My Hands Clasped Under A Veil 4/8/2010
13. If The Moon On The Skies Does Not Roam 4/8/2010
14. Music 4/8/2010
15. I Was Born In The Right Time, In Whole 4/8/2010
16. So Again We Triumph! 4/8/2010
17. Reading 'Hamlet' 4/8/2010
18. Sunshine Has Filled The Room 4/8/2010
19. Rachel 4/8/2010
20. You, Who Was Born For Poetry's Creation 4/8/2010
21. Now No-One Will Be Listening To Songs 4/8/2010
22. To Boris Pasternak 4/8/2010
23. This Evening’s Light Is Golden Bright 4/8/2010
24. The Victory 4/8/2010
25. My Way 4/8/2010
26. They Didn’t Meet 4/8/2010
27. To The Many 4/8/2010
28. You'Ll Live, But I'Ll Not; Perhaps 4/8/2010
29. Here Pushkin’s Endless Exile Has Begun 4/8/2010
30. I Saw My Friend At The Front Door 4/8/2010
31. Our Native Earth 4/8/2010
32. I Have No Use For Odic Legions 4/8/2010
33. How Many Demands... 4/8/2010
34. In The Evening 4/8/2010
35. The Last Toast 4/8/2010
36. He Did Love 4/8/2010
37. Thoughts Of The Sunlight 4/8/2010
38. Somewhere There Is A Simple Life 4/8/2010
39. Alexander By Thebes 4/8/2010
40. Greetings! 4/8/2010
Best Poem of Anna Akhmatova

Everything

Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?

By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.

And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.

Read the full of Everything

Sunbeam

I pray to the sunbeam from the window -
It is pale, thin, straight.
Since morning I have been silent,
And my heart - is split.
The copper on my washstand
Has turned green,
But the sunbeam plays on it
So charmingly.
How innocent it is, and simple,

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